


wouldn’t it be nice

by larvitar



Category: Portrait de la jeune fille en feu | Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Marriage Proposal, Modern AU, as usual, héloïse is a snarky motherfucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larvitar/pseuds/larvitar
Summary: Marianne braces herself for the scariest night of her life- asking Héloïse to marry her.☆★☆héloïse/marianne, one-shot, modern AU, fluffy & domestic
Relationships: Héloïse/Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	wouldn’t it be nice

**Author's Note:**

> proposal fic? in my poloaf ao3 tag? it's more likely than you think! fun one-shot, title from the beach boys song, duh. happy pride month!!!!! comments & kudos appreciated!

Marianne never anticipated wanting to be married.

As a child, it was the last thing on her mind. Girls in her grade would chase the boys they liked, and giggle about who was going to marry who. Marianne never really paid attention to it all, focusing more on her schoolwork. This made her sort of a “loner”, as one would say, but she was perfectly content being that way. If she didn’t share interests with any of the girls on the playground, then she didn’t and there was no use trying to fake it.

As she grew older, this attitude only continued into her adolescence. It was something her father duly appreciated— he didn’t have to worry about a boy disrupting her studies or any of the other negative consequences that came from having a boyfriend. She had generally considered herself not really one for relationships— sure, she had her fair share of passing attractions, infatuations, crushes and whatnot, but she never entertained the possibility of being with someone, permanently and even temporarily.

Until she met Héloïse.

Héloïse was a lot of things— she was bold, blunt, quick to anger, sometimes passive-aggressive, passionate, poetic, ambitious. Even so, that’s just scratching the surface. Héloïse was an avid consumer of the arts, particularly indulging in reading whenever possible. She read it all— the literary classics, above-average and below-average YA novels, queer theory (although Héloïse was vehemently against the term “queer” and refused to use it for such books; even now, Marianne can hear Héloïse’s voice echo in her head about “it’s unjust to apply a word most commonly used as a slur against an entire community”), books of poetry, ancient myths, great philosophers of past and present, and so on and so forth. Currently, Héloïse was engrossed with a copy of _Stone Butch Blues_ sitting across from Marianne on the island in their shared apartment, absentmindedly grabbing and peeling a banana as she perused the now dog-eared pages.

Marianne hadn’t even realized she had been staring like an absolute dope at Héloïse, until the blonde woman looked up at her questioningly, eyebrows furrowing just barely in the way that Marianne thought was completely adorable.

” _Quoi_?” She asked, her blue-green eyes staring deep into Marianne’s rich brown ones.

Marianne shook her head, waving her hand as she smiled down at the counter top. “It’s nothing.”

Héloïse tilted her head to the side like a puppy, putting her book down. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Marianne lifted her head up, meeting Héloïse’s intense gaze again. “Am I not allowed?” Marianne teased, the hints of a previous smile still on her face.

Héloïse rolled her eyes fondly, a warm smile on her face.

The truth of the matter was that Marianne was looking at Héloïse more intensely than usual (which was really saying something, because their eye sex was always constant) because she was positively buzzing with nerves. The source of her nerves was a small box laying within her trenchcoat’s pocket. Tonight was the night she was going to propose to Héloïse, and despite the fact that she was already anxious as all hell at nine in the morning and had some time before the event, she was determined to go through with it.

Marianne had the perfect plan, of course. Marianne had her summer art show tonight, at the art museum where they met. Marianne had already pre-prepared with a host of Héloïse-themed pieces, leading to their favorite painting, a depiction of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth. She was mildly hesitant about the proposal itself, because it would be a grand gesture of sorts, and basically in public, but God bless Sophie for easing her nerves that morning on the way to work.

”Marianne, it’s not like you’re one of those guys in viral videos who propose in some over-the-top way and gets horribly rejected. It’s a big gesture, but it’s not overkill.”

Marianne exhaled. “I’m just incredibly nervous,” she said, stepping into her studio to load up a few more pieces for the show.

”And you have every right to be,” Sophie reassured her, her words always a grounding presence. “It’s marriage. But there’s no way it’ll go wrong, considering how much head-over-heels Héloïse is for you, and how well-thought out your whole plan is.”

Marianne smiled at that, gingerly lifting one of the oil paintings that had dwelled in her studio untouched to package it before putting it in her car, phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. “I just want to make it perfect for her.”

”Trust me, I know. But you have me, all of your colleagues who are in on it, and I’m sure Simone would give you his support if he could.”

Marianne snorted at that. Simone was Héloïse and Marianne’s snooty cat, named by Héloïse after Simone Beauvoir because what else? He was an asshole who had a tendency to break things most of the time and steal cheese when Marianne wasn’t looking, but Marianne still loved him all the same. (Héloïse was his favorite, but she couldn’t blame him— she’s a catch.)

”If by support you mean knocking wine glasses off the counter, then yes, I’m sure he’s giving his utmost support.”

Sophie laughed from the other line. It then became clear to Marianne that she wouldn’t be able to heave the paintings that remained in her studio while also on the phone, to which she took her phone from its place nestled between her shoulder after putting one of her beloved pieces in the trunk. “I’m going to have to let you go, alright? There’s still some more stuff I need to prepare for tonight.”

”Oh, of course! I’m sorry if I kept you,” piped Sophie’s voice from the other line. “I’ll see you tonight!”

”See you then, Sophie.” Marianne smiled, clicking the red button to hang up before sliding her phone into the front pocket of her jeans. She still had more artwork to load into her trunk— a myriad of assorted works, some of Marianne’s older work that she was still proud of, but mostly works that came from her students. It seemed some of them failed to understand the concept of a deadline, which was something Marianne understood fully. She considered herself a pretty punctual person, but good art could never be rushed. Her understanding didn’t ease her irritation, however, as she packaged the pieces to put in her car that had only come in this morning. Time seemed to pass slowly as she entertained herself with the menial labor of it all, eventually having all of the artwork to be put in the show safely in her car. Marianne breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing that the hardest part was over as there’d certainly be people to help her carry this all in.

Marianne had just gotten in her car when Héloïse called. She almost instantly tensed. Realistically, Marianne knew she was just calling to make sure the scheduling of their dinner reservations for before the art show was all set-up, but that didn’t stop her hands from shaking. She took a deep breath, steeling herself as she picked up the phone.

”Hi, Héloïse.” Marianne couldn’t help but smile at the small chuckle that came from the other line. “Hi, yourself.” Héloïse teased, her voice crackling a little bit from the poor connection Marianne seemed to perpetually experience inside and near her studio. Héloïse then cleared her throat before speaking again.

”I just wanted to make sure you remembered the reservations were at 6 o’ clock sharp tonight.”

”Of course I remembered. I’ll be done with set-up in time, I promise.”

”Okay, good. I was just confirming,” Héloïse said, and based on the tone of her voice, Marianne could tell she was smiling that sweet, easy smile that she reserved for Marianne and Marianne only. Her heart soared a little at that.

“Talk to you later?” Marianne asked. “Of course,” Héloïse said, still in that sweet, dreamy tone of voice. “Love you.” Marianne smiled the tiniest bit. “Love you too,” she replied, hanging up and sinking back into her seat. Today was to be a long day.

☆★☆

A long day it was as Marianne found herself coaxing one of her finest students, Lavinia, to let her display by far her best artwork just fifteen minutes before she had to begin her trek home back to Héloïse and get ready for dinner. Everything else had been set up, the walls on wheels in the left wing of the museum displaying a host of artwork from Marianne’s students, then finally some of Marianne’s. There were some of her more refined, relaxed pieces— she had a knack for portraiture and a few faces came to life with her technical and sentimental skill. Then, as one got farther along the wall, scraps and pages from her many notebooks and sketchbooks until one came upon the Orpheus and Eurydice in the museum’s regular selection, a small gap between two of the walls to allow its viewing. Right next to it was Marianne’s own interpretation of the myth rendered in vibrant oil paints and her artist’s statement that built her proposal right in. Everything being all ready to go and for something like _this_ to happen before she was to head out and set everything in action was just so typical. Regardless, Marianne tried to handle the situation with as much tact as she could.

“Your parents will adore it, I’m sure. There’s no way they couldn’t.” Marianne reassuringly rubbed her shoulder. Her words and gesture seemed to have no effect, however, as Lavinia continued to look deeply into the wood floors.

“But I’m terrified. And it’s not conventional.” Marianne frowned.

“That’s the magic of it. It’s not conventional, it breaks the barriers of set conventions and ideas. That’s why it’s good art.”

Lavinia pensively looked up at Marianne, ever-towering over her students at the regal height of 5’9”. She smiled warmly at the girl, offering her a hand.

“Come on. Let’s set it all up.”

Lavinia’s brow formed a knot. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you need to go attend to your _wife?_ ” Lavinia’s frown became a playful smirk at the word “wife”.

Marianne’s cheeks turned pink and she scoffed. She had told her students of her plan to propose to her long-time girlfriend using art once they inquired about her pieces in the show, and they had all cooed and asked for details, as young girls so often did at the prospect of a romantic interest. And who was Marianne not to indulge them?

“Yes, I’m sure.” Marianne started, figuring her blush and scoff was enough of a response to the “wife” comment. “You’re one of my most talented students, and I mean that.” Lavinia’s expression turned serious. “It would be a shame if you didn’t hang a piece like this up due to public fear. That’s the beauty of art, of course. Creating new images.” Marianne looked down at her watch and blinked.

“And with that, it’s about time for me to leave. Good luck with your finishing set-ups, and I’ll see you tonight.” Marianne nodded at the young girl, heading out the large doors of the museum.

“Bye, Marianne!” The girl sing-songed to her as she exited the premises. “Good luck to you too!”

☆★☆

Marianne opened the door to her and Héloïse’s shared apartment, being greeted with Simone’s attentive meows and rubbing and purring against her pant leg.

“Somebody’s awfully sweet today,” Marianne said, leaning down to scratch him on the ear. “Did Héloïse give you the rest of the salami?” With that, Simone purred, giving Marianne a chuckle.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Marianne responded as she stood back up and slipped her shoes and coat off. The small velvet box was still tucked in her trenchcoat pocket, but the clear shape of it was blocked out by bits of crumpled paper (that she often stored in her coat for later use and ultimately forgot about altogether), so it was disguised well-enough. Héloïse should have no idea.

Marianne walked softly to their bedroom, before swinging the door open to a concentrated Héloïse who was staring intensely at her laptop, a few strings of hair coming out of her golden bun as she sat criss-cross applesauce with a book in one hand and the other hand thoughtfully posed on her chin. Héloïse seemed to not notice the brunette’s entry, to which Marianne walked over to her and draped her arms around her, peppering kisses on her cheeks.

Héloïse turned around to face her at just the right moment, as the two met in a chaste kiss. Marianne pulled back and smiled, Héloïse wearing an equally smitten grin.

“Hi,” Marianne near-whispered, breath hot on Héloïse’s mouth.

“Hi yourself,” Héloïse replied, pulling her closer for a more passionate kiss before pulling back again, still wearing the same grin on her face.

Marianne nodded to her laptop. “What are you working on?”

Héloïse turned back to her laptop, where a Google Docs file was open. Héloïse was a renowned literary critic, although she only seemed to read the books she was to review on her work time, opting to crack open one of her pleasurable reads whenever possible. 

“My notes,” she answered. She lifted the book in her hand, pointing to the title with a frown in her face. “A new YA title. Increasingly vapid and boring. Style over substance, but the style isn’t even that interesting in the first place.” Héloïse huffed, putting the book down and looking at it frustratingly. “I’d _love_ for one of these American authors to give the reader something that isn’t about a 17-year old white girl saving the world. It’s beating a dead horse.”

Marianne laughed softly. “Reservations are in thirty-five,” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to Héloïse’s cheek. “I’m going to get in the shower.”

Héloïse put her book down and closed her laptop, turning to face Marianne as she began to enter the bathroom. “It’s five minutes away, yes?”

“Walking distance, yes.” By this point, Marianne had closed the bathroom door behind her and started shedding her clothes. Good riddance, anyway— they were thick with sweat from all the manual labor in the Parisian heat she had done earlier. She started the shower, waiting a few minutes until the water was the right temperature (sue her for wasting water) before getting in.

As she cleaned herself, her thoughts began to wander about how the night would go. Sophie’s words from earlier echoed in her mind, but that didn’t stop the worry from running wild in her brain as her hands mechanically washed her hair. Theoretically, she _knew_ it was all going to be good and fine— but she still had her doubts. After all, Héloïse had barely been able to talk her mother out of setting her up with some rich guy and marrying him instantly (which was so _medieval_ of her mom to do so), so who knows? They had talked about the possibility of marriage around two years into their relationship, with both agreeing that it would be something they would work their way up to, but Marianne couldn’t resist her nerves. What if Héloïse changed her mind? What if she didn’t want to commit? What if marriage only reminded her of the painful memories and she couldn’t dream of going through with it, even with Marianne?

God, she had worked herself up so much that she realized she had spent a little too much time in the shower, her fingers pruny as she stepped out and wrapped a towel around her midsection. She wrapped a smaller towel around her hair and tiptoed into the bedroom, going to the closet and snatching a fresh pair of clothes she had forgotten to lay out for herself beforehand. She made her way back to the bathroom, slipping into a pair of black jeans and a maroon turtleneck. She began to dry her hair, which was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“I’m clothed,” Marianne replied.

“Good,” Héloïse said, opening the door and entering the bathroom as she let her hair down. “If you weren’t, we’d miss our reservation.”

Marianne smirked. “Shut up,” she retorted, lightly hitting Héloïse on the shoulder.

The two got ready in a comfortable silence, Marianne blowdrying her wet hair while Héloïse redid her bun before starting on her makeup. Marianne’s hair was eventually dry enough for her to start on her makeup as well, and soon enough, the two women were ready to head out.

Marianne turned to face Héloïse, who was wearing a dark blue sweater that she was pretty sure Héloïse had stolen from her, with gray dress pants, a leather belt, white socks, and a pair of black Oxfords. It was a simple look, but Héloïse always seemed to be able to wear the simplest of clothes and yet still manage to make it an outfit. Somehow, she never needed a statement piece to have a notable outfit— her being herself was enough of a statement already, it seemed.

Marianne had gotten caught up in her thoughts again, before Héloïse’s voice snapped her back out of it. “You know, if you keep staring at me like a lovesick puppy, we’re not going to be able to leave the house in time.”

Marianne blinked, looking at Héloïse sheepishly as a light pink dusted her cheeks. “Do we need to leave soon?”

Héloïse looked down at her watch. “It’s just about time.” The blonde woman gave her a once-over before speaking again. “You look amazing as always, by the way.” Héloïse also graced her with a sweet kiss to the cheek.

Marianne smiled warmly back at Héloïse. “Let’s head out then, shall we?”

☆★☆

The restaurant was not as busy as Marianne had assumed it to be, which was beneficial for them as it meant more time to kill before the art show. The two had an enjoyable dinner as ever, with Héloïse opting for a steak and Marianne opting for a smaller pasta dish. The two laughed as Marianne entertained stories of her students, with Camile’s rather boorish boyfriend Pierre insisting it was either him or the art show before crawling back to the studio to seek her out and beg for her forgiveness. Héloïse fired back with stories of the pushback she had received earlier in the week by putting out her latest review about some cult author’s new mystery novel- in that it was gratuitously misogynistic and many had sent her laughably bad angry emails about how stupid she was for not being able to see “true talent”, with one even detailing that “God will smite (you) where you stand”. They hadn’t had much time to chat over the past week with Marianne’s tight prep schedule, so it felt endlessly pleasant to be able to catch up. Marianne wouldn’t call their relationship _easy,_ necessarily— more so that they were usually on the same page, or that they matched the other’s energy. Not to say that they didn’t have their fair share of disagreements, but she was lucky to be dating someone who she felt she was always able to level with, _especially_ during their chats. It was something Marianne endlessly appreciated about their conversations— the balance, the understanding, the _equality_ they had when talking with each other. She’d never tire of it.

After their dinner had ended (Marianne had insisted on paying despite Héloïse’s pouting, although Héloïse paid anyway by not-so-discreetly slipping her card to the waiter), the two walked hand-in-hand back down the city streets before they would have to drive Héloïse’s Camry (a car in which she insisted looked like puke) to the art show.

The sky was a fading orange, the days growing longer and longer as summer was on the horizon. The pastel blue, pinks, and oranges of the sky made for a beautiful sight that Marianne took as a positive sign that everything would go smoothly. Unconsciously, she squeezed Héloïse’s hand a little tighter.

Héloïse turned and looked at her quizzically. Marianne, now aware of her actions, turned to meet her always intense gaze. Héloïse blinked. “What?”

Marianne tutted, trying to seem convincing as she fished an excuse from her repertoire of them. 

“Don’t want to lose you.”

Héloïse grinned in response. “That’s cheesy,” she taunted.

Marianne returned a similar grin. “Well, I would hope you’ve gotten used to my cheesiness, considering we’ve been dating for a little over five years now.”

Héloïse’s expression suddenly turned solemn, turning to Marianne and grabbing her free hand with her own free hand. “Marianne,” she started.

“I’ve been so gracious to know you and be able to love you for as long as I have. Your mind has constantly expanded my world and my ideas, and your perspective on everything is always worthy and intelligent. Your ideas are always wildly and brilliantly creative, and you’ve introduced me to pieces of art, literature, and cinema I wouldn’t have reached otherwise. You remind me everyday to see the world through the eyes of a poet and all the privilege I have living the way I do. Your outlook is decidedly optimistic, but never unrealistic. You’re someone I admire, I treasure, and most importantly love wholly and fully, with all of my heart. I had never considered marriage as an option due to my mother’s intent to use it just for money, but... you change my mind and surprise me, again and again. All that said, I don’t think it’s far-fetched to say that I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you, and never anybody else.” _Wait. What?_

And then Héloïse got down on one knee. _Once again, but louder this time— WHAT?_

“I meant to do this after your art show, but I figured, it’s a beautiful night and since we have the time now…” She fished in her coat pocket, producing a velvet box that was near-identical to Marianne’s, except the velvet was red instead of black. Marianne’s expression, meanwhile, was full of shock. _How did she not see this coming?_

“Marianne…” Héloïse’s voice was quivering, and so was she, kneeling down on the city sidewalk as the day began to end above them. Héloïse popped the small box open.

“Will you marry me?”

Marianne blinked, then instantly began laughing. She knew she shouldn’t, but the fact that _both_ of them decided to propose on _exactly_ the same night, not a day sooner, not a day later, just sent her. God, their minds were maybe a little _too_ intune with each other.

Héloïse frowned and furrowed her brow. “What? Why are you-“

Before the blonde woman could finish, however, Marianne dug in her pocket, her deft fingers navigating amongst the crumpled paper she had put there previously before pulling out her own velvet box and opening it. Héloïse’s blue-green eyes instantly went wide, her mouth agape as she recognized what Marianne had taken out.

“Héloïse,” she started, her expression now curled into a smile. “I had a whole plan for proposing to you tonight with the art show. I had pieces dedicated to you leading up to our Orpheus and Eurydice with my own interpretation of the myth on the side. My artist’s statement had my proposal written into it. I can’t believe—“ Marianne laughed a little bit more, covering her face with her hand briefly before lowering it, “—that we chose the _exact same night_ to propose. Not a day sooner or a day later. I guess it really proves that we’re perpetually in harmony with each other.”

Héloïse had a warm, fond smile on her face. “Two instruments in the same symphony.” Her smile dropped, being replaced with a pensive expression on her face. “...Your answer is yes, right?”

Marianne grinned, storing her own box back into its pocket before pulling Héloïse out of her kneel to bring her into a passionate kiss. She cupped both of her hands around the blonde woman’s face as Héloïse threw her arms around Marianne’s neck and returned the kiss with a budding ferocity, one of her hands cradling Marianne’s neck. The two finally had to pull back to take a breather, still close that their breath was breathing hot into each other’s mouths.

“Of course it’s _yes,_ ” Marianne responded, unable to resist the grin that spread across her face.

“Well, good. It would be very awkward if you said anything else.” Marianne giggled, moving her hands to Héloïse’s shoulders.

“Can I still do my proposal, though? It required a lot of effort. And patience.”

Héloïse offered a half-smile. “Obviously. I’ll just pretend to be surprised and we can sort out everything else at home after the art show.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Héloïse smirked. “Though, I don’t know if we’ll have _time_ to do so as soon as we get home, considering…” Marianne’s cheeks instantly went red.

“Héloïse!”

☆★☆

After they tidied up a little at home and began the drive to the art museum, Marianne was still buzzing with nerves. She really had no reason to be, considering they had already said yes to each other, but… Héloïse didn’t know entirely what her proposal was going to be like. Maybe it was just the action of proposing that scared her, and professing her love for Héloïse in front of a host of parents and critics and enthusiasts. Héloïse hadn’t even _heard_ her proposal yet, after all.

Héloïse seemed to sense her nerves, freeing a hand from driving to find Marianne’s hand and give it a squeeze. Marianne turned to the other girl, giving her a compassionate smile, which Héloïse returned just as lovingly.

Before Marianne knew it, they were at the back door. Marianne still had to make sure everything was in order before they could officially open the doors. Marianne straightened her blazer before popping open the passenger door, going around to the driver’s seat to say goodbye as Héloïse rolled down her window.

“See you inside?”

Héloïse nodded. “Of course,” she replied as Marianne gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. “See you soon,” she told the blonde woman, making her trek to the back doors. Marianne gingerly tugged open one of the doors, allowing her to see all of the artwork that was now fully on display. All of the laborious hours spent by both her students and Marianne assisting them with it on each piece, all showcasing their distinctive art styles and unique approaches. Marianne was nothing short of pleased, roaming around the rooms allotted for the art show with a beaming sense of pride.

All the girls were either making last minute changes in terms of positioning and placement or pacing or fidgeting nervously, considering the doors were to open in a little under five minutes now. Marianne clapped her hands together, drawing the attention of the girls as they all turned to her and came closer.

“Ladies, I want to tell you all how grateful I am that you all are my pupils and you’ve continued with me for this long. You all not only have a lot of talent, but also a very strong sense of passion for the arts, which means I’ve successfully done my job.” Marianne laughed, a little breathless from the night’s events. “I can’t lie— seeing all your works on display tonight imbues me with an intense pride, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Marianne looked around at the small crowd of wide-eyed girls she had been teaching for about two years now. “So? Shall we open the doors?” This elicited a few whoops and cheers from the girls, and Marianne smiled as she went over to the front doors of the museum, where a sizable crowd of people were waiting.

“Let’s pull out all the stops, shall we?”

☆★☆

A little after the crowd of people had poured in and dispersed evenly throughout the rooms with art on display, Marianne had accustomed to standing in front of her Orpheus and Eurydice as she looked around anxiously.

“Observing reactions, hm?” A voice asked, belonging none other to Héloïse with Sophie by her side. The two made their way up to Marianne, Héloïse wearing a smirk and Sophie wearing a polite smile. The two stood in silence for a bit, observing the room around them before Sophie piped up.

“You know, when Héloïse told me a few days ago she was waiting for the right moment to propose, I didn’t know it meant _right before_ your own proposal.” Marianne quirked up an eyebrow, now wearing the smirk Héloïse just had while the blonde woman’s expression became flushed as she began to sputter, trying to formulate a coherent response.

“You conferred with Sophie too, huh?”

Sophie shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? I have good advice.”

Héloïse sighed dejectedly, giving up on trying to respond. “Whatever,” she mumbled, almost under her breath but not quite.

“Speaking of,” Marianne started, meeting Héloïse’s eyes that instantaneously lit up with apprehension. Héloïse tilted her head to the side, almost as if to ask _Are you sure?_

Marianne chuckled lightly, smiling at Héloïse before nodding. Sophie’s eyes observed the interaction between the two women before blinking. “I swear, you two have your own language.” The two only grinned at each other in response to Sophie’s comment, Héloïse stifling a small chuckle of her own. “Maybe so,” Marianne responded, before offering her hand to Héloïse.

“ _Finally_ ,” Sophie breathed out in a volume a little over a whisper.

Héloïse took it wordlessly, as Marianne took the two to the beginning of the wall full of Héloïse, gently walking with the blonde woman past it all while speaking.

“Héloïse, whenever I try to draw you, I often have difficulty with it.” A few more steps forward. “I find it troublesome in trying to capture your energy, your spirit through pencil, through pen, through charcoal, through paint.” Héloïse’s look was an ever-so intense one, staring deep into Marianne. The brunette shivered a little. Her gaze would never fail to make her weak in the knees. Marianne cleared her throat and turned to focus on the wall of art before continuing.

“After all, it’s needlessly difficult to try and translate everything you are in real life to a blank canvas. Your intelligence, your intensity, your passion, your poeticism. However, any good artist can channel a profound presence into their art.” They had finally walked up to the Orpheus and Eurydice from the museum’s collection, Orpheus grasping his lyre as Eurydice grasped tightly onto him, her green cloak billowing in the wind of the Underworld. “I suggested to you when we first viewed this painting together, side-by-side as you pierced through the oil paints with your gaze, that perhaps Orpheus was making a choice here. The lover’s choice, or the poet’s. You then suggested that perhaps Eurydice asked him to turn around. I kept this idea while making my own interpretation of the myth.” Marianne drew back, presenting to Héloïse her own, _their_ own, Orpheus and Eurydice. Héloïse wouldn’t have gotten a good look at it as Marianne was standing guard in front of it before Héloïse and Sophie came up to her, and the blonde woman’s eyes went wide as she caught sight of it. Marianne took a knee, pulling out her box.

“Héloïse, every moment with you has been indescribable. You can attribute that to me being the art buff and you being the literature buff, but regardless.” Héloïse laughed a little at that, Marianne laughing a little as well before continuing. “You’re someone whose mind always amazes me, and I don’t think that’ll ever stop. All of your words are always so careful and well thought out, and yet you always say what needs to be said. You’ve had such an impact on me that I think just an equal part of me that’s Marianne is Héloïse. Sometimes, I wake up and think about how lucky I am to be with you. Because,” Tears bristled in Marianne’s eyes- “Orpheus and Eurydice may’ve picked the poet’s choice, but I don’t want that for us. So, Héloïse,” Marianne’s tears were spilling over as her shaky hands popped the top of her box, revealing a ring, “will you choose the lover’s choice with me and marry me?”

Héloïse had started crying as well, wiping her tears with one of her sleeves. By this point, a small crowd of people had amassed around them, dutifully waiting for Héloïse’s answer. After a few steady breaths, Héloïse, tears still spilling down her cheeks, finally spoke.

“Yes. Yes. Absolutely.” Héloïse pulled Marianne in for a passionate kiss, as the small crowd they had around them clapped, with a few whoops and cheers. After they eventually had to pull away for breath, Héloïse whispered to Marianne, only to be heard by them.

“Yes. For the second time, and for all the times after.”

She threw Marianne a small smile.

“I choose the lover’s choice with you.”

☆★☆

**Author's Note:**

> one of marianne's students, lavinia, is a small nod to emily dickinson's younger sister, lavinia dickinson. props if you caught that.  
> the orpheus and eurydice marianne references that's from the museum is this one (https://eclecticlightdotcom.files.wordpress.com/2016/10/poynterorpheuseurydice.jpg), which you've probably seen before. i promise i'm working on my other fic i'm just very adhd and unable to focus on multiple things. but it's coming, i promise!!!! thank you all for your support meanwhile and i hope you enjoyed my very self-indulgent proposal fic uwu  
> ☆★☆  
> torture me on tumblr:  
> krookodyke.tumblr.com


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